


In the Eyes of the Beholder

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursed as an infant, Lady Belle grows up with her eyes closed for the first thing she sees, she shall be compelled to love. If that love is not returned within a fortnight, she will perish of heartbreak. A story about friendship and love and overcoming the greatest of odds.</p><p>-Nominated for Best Courtship in the 2017 T.E.A's-</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Eyes of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Nia-Nita's fantastic Fanart-http://nia-sketches.tumblr.com/post/148255602211/just-imagine-little-miss-belle-befriends

Upon the birth of their first born daughter, Lord Maurice and Lady Colette invited all of Avonlea to celebrate. The peasants and the farmers, the blacksmiths and the milkmaids, mothers and maidens, fathers and son, all came to the grand hall to gaze upon the newborn child.

Even the fairies came, each blessing the child with beauty, grace, and poise. A thirst for knowledge, compassion, and a sense of adventure (this last one coming from a rather unusual fairy) were all gifted to the child as she slept peacefully in her crib. She did not stir.

Just as the celebration began to die down, a cold wind blew into the hall. The lights flickered and died as the partygoers cowered, even the boldest fairies' wings folded in fear.

The Queen herself had come. A powerful sorceress, she was able to change a heart with a look or kill a man with a single touch. Lord Maurice bent his knee, mumbling apologies and greetings, but it was futile. She too had a gift to bestow.

Walking up to the child, she peered down just in time to see the child crack open her eyes. Blue eyes stared back at the great Queen, who chuckled as she touched the infant’s soft cheek. “A gift for you,” she said, her voice carrying throughout the hall though she did not raise it above a whisper. “The next time you open those beautiful eyes, whomever you see, you will be compelled to love. If they do not learn to love you in return, you shall perish of heartache and despair within a fortnight.”

With a laugh that shook the rafters, the Queen disappeared, leaving the assembly behind in terror. Both her parents rushed to their daughter, but she was already fast asleep, her eyes shut back in peaceful repose.

One little fairy, small as a dust mote, came forward, and offered her help. “I cannot undo the spell,” she said to the great lord and lady. “However, I can enchant her eyes to stay closed until her eighteenth birthday.”

Torn between desire to protect their child and the knowledge she might never see the world, they tearfully agreed. Across the land, the story spread of the young lady bewitched by a vengeful Queen.

For the first couple of years of her life, little Belle did not realize she was different. She learned how to sew by touch, navigate by memory, and remembered people by the sound of their voice. It wasn’t until she was six that disaster nearly struck.

While out exploring one day, a great bull from a nearby farm escaped its paddock and went tearing after her. If it wasn’t for the courage of a nearby peasant boy, who convinced the bull to chase him instead, she would have perished on the small country lane. Her parents, relieved and grateful, invited the boy to live at the castle. He would be Belle’s eyes, a constant companion who would never leave her side. The boy was called Rumplestitlskin and he came to live at the great house when he was ten.

From the start, the two were inseparable. If his little lady attended any great function, her faithful shadow was right behind her, whispering softly in her ear. He told her what people looked like, how they moved, where they looked, and through his eyes, for the first time in her life, Belle felt like she could see.

They were fast friends, and though Belle tended to get the two of them in trouble more often than not, her parents were fond of Rumplestitlskin. He was a sweet soul, quiet and shy but completely faithful.

Things did not begin to change until the day Rumplestitlskin's voice changed.

“Why!” Belle laughed, clapping her hands to her mouth in glee. “You sound like a bullfrog!”

“It’s not my fault,” he complained bitterly. “Cogsworth says it’s completely normal!”

His voice cracked at least three times during this little speech, and Belle giggled at each one.

“Now, now, miss,” Mrs. Potts scolded her. “That’s no way to treat your friend. He’s growing into a man.”

“A man?” Belle asked, tilting her head in confusion. Her pretty little face wrinkled up as she turned towards the mistress of the kitchen. “Whatever for?”

“That’s what happens to little boys,” Mrs. Potts laughed, handing Rumplestitlskin a treat for his troubles. She winked at him to indicate it would be their little secret, knowing full well he’d share it with Belle regardless.

Soon, peach fuzz began to grow on his cheeks. Though at first he let Belle feel it, over the next year, he became moody and secretive.

“Dear,” Lady Colette said, one day, watching the two walk below in the garden. “Do you think Rumple is getting a little old to be Belle’s companion?”

Lord Maurice harrumphed uncomfortably. He remembered that age all too well, but Rumple was a very different sort of boy than he had been. At ten, Belle was already promising to be as beautiful as her mother. Soon, he would have to think about fostering a lord’s son to come live with them, before Belle turned sixteen and opened her eyes.

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “I’ll look into some apprenticeship for the boy. A squire perhaps?”

As it turned out, Rumple did not want to be a squire, or a footman, or a page. “I’ll stay with Miss Belle,” he said quietly, his voice having settled into a low bass. “As long as she has need of me, milord.”

The two navigated the odd years together. If Rumple caught himself staring at his little lady for longer than he should, no one else noticed. He may have held her a hand a little less, blushed a little more, and dreamt of an impossible future, but no one noticed.

When Belle bled for the first time, she was thirteen.

“It’s time,” Lady Colette told her husband, though her heart was heavy.

The next fortnight, the first son of a local nobleman came to Avonlea. His name was Gaston, and he was wretched. Belle hated his smug voice, and the way he pinched her cheek. As her betrothed, it was assumed he would be her new companion. When her parents were around, he was charming, selfless and courteous, but when they weren’t, he was a bully. He hated all the things Belle enjoyed.

“The library?” he drawled in derision. “Why, that’s for old men!”

“The Lady Belle enjoys being read to,” Rumple said softly from where he stood behind them. Until Lord Maurice found a suitable situation for him, he was tasked with showing the newcomer around the castle. Rumple didn’t mind since it meant he still got to spend time with Belle.

“Well, I don’t like books,” Gaston declared. “There’s no pictures in them! Tell me Bumblestitsksin, do you box?”

What occurred next was unpleasant for everyone except Gaston, who thoroughly enjoyed blackening Rumple’s eye and breaking his nose. When questioned by Lord Maurice, Gaston simply said they had been playing. He was not punished. 

“But he’s horrible!” Belle cried to her mother, the tears leaking out of her closed eyes. “I hate him!”

Lady Colette’s face fell, but she kept her voice light. “Now, sweetheart,” she murmured, tying the blue ribbon in her daughter’s dark hair. “You are betrothed to Lord Gaston. He’s already quite fond of you, but you must teach him how to love you.”

"Silly. I could never love him,” Belle said stubbornly, crossing her arms. Her mother kept quiet, knowing magic was more powerful than her headstrong daughter dreamed.

Belle blossomed into a beautiful young woman before their eyes. By her sixteenth birthday, she was as accomplished a lady as any princess could aspire to. She could dance like a dream, rode better than even Gaston, and was as smart as a whip. The land began to whisper about her future, as her eighteenth birthday drew near. The curse loomed.

“I’ll just never open my eyes,” she told Rumple one day, having snuck into the village to see him.

Twenty and one, he had grown into a small man, all angles and elbows. He had been apprenticed to a pair of seamstresses at the castle, and had discovered to everyone’s surprise a great talent at spinning.Though he had his own home near the castle, no woman wanted to marry him, and he had shown little interest in them either. His heart belonged to his lady.

“Don’t be silly,” he told her seriously. “It’s a lot harder to keep your eyes closed when they aren’t enchanted shut. You’ll wake up one day and see your lady maid emptying your chamber pot and poof!”

“She’s nice,” Belle said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind being in love with her.”

“Belle,” Rumple sighed, and stopped the wheel. “Please, you must take this seriously.”

“Oh, but I do,” Belle told him. “It’s just that I’d rather die than marry Gaston.”

As it happened, Lady Colette passed away just a few weeks later. A small cold led to a wracking cough only to bloom into a raging fever. Lady Colette grew weaker and weaker until one morning, she could barely stir from the bed. “You must be brave,” she told Belle, brushing the tears from her daughter’s cheek. And though Lady Colette wished she might have looked once last time into her daughter’s eyes, she passed away within the fortnight.

The land plummeted into mourning.

Belle did not visit Rumple for nearly four months after that. If anything Lord Maurice became more determined than ever to save his daughter, and insisted she spend all her free time with Gaston.

On her seventeenth birthday, as she unwrapped gifts at the annual celebration in her honor, she smelled a familiar scent. “Rumple!” she cried, putting down the gift from the ambassador from Arendelle. The entire assembly turned to find a small man, cowering in the doorway, a humble gift clutched in his hands. Lord Maurice sighed, but gestured for him to come forward. Gaston merely scowled at him, crossing his now brawny arms and flexing intimidatingly.

“My lady,” Rumple greeted quietly, making a small awkward bow even though Belle could not see. Her face was lit up in greeting, and she reached down for his hand. With an apologetic look at Lord Maurice, he gave it to her.

Her fingers squeezed his immediately, and she leaned down on pretext of slipping forward in her chair to better reach him. “Tomorrow at dawn, in the stables,” she whispered, before sitting back in her chair as nothing had happened. “Lovely to see you,” she said, and took the gift from him regally. It was a spool of his finest thread, soft as silk, a textured pebble from the creek that they had once played in as children, and a feather he had found in the road.

They began to visit in secret once again. Rumple knew he should stay away, but his heart was too cowardly to listen. He loved his lady, and though he knew it was foolish, he could not tear himself away.

“Rumple,” Belle said one day, night falling around them. “What do the stars look like tonight?” It was an old game of theirs. He smiled, telling her softly how they glowed and shined in the crystal clear night sky. She put her head on his shoulder as he talked, listening to his voice as it rose and fell in the quiet. “Rumple?”

“Milady?”

“What do you look like?”

He blinked. “What?”

She smiled, grabbing his hand. “You used to let me trace your face with my hands,” she reminded him. “Could I…could I try that again?”

He gulped. Finally, he lifted her small hand in his own, and placed it on his stubbled chin, wincing slightly at the contact. Belle straightened, and her other hand rose up until she cradled his face in her hands. “Prickly,” she laughed. “Just like Papa’s.”

“Can’t grow a beard,” he grumbled, head lowering to his chest. Belle pulled it back up, leaning in until their noses brushed. He stopped breathing entirely at this, but she continued to smile serenely, completely untroubled. Her fingers traced his jawline, feeling the long soft hair that hung about his shoulders. “You need a haircut,” she teased, another old childhood joke. Then, her fingers moved to his ears, and he twitched, still slightly ticklish after all these years.

She took pity on him, moving to gently probe the corners of his eyes, the bristles of his brows and down the slope of his nose. He didn’t move, too busy memorizing the way her face looked in the starlight. He knew he might never get another chance to do so. Her touch went to his mouth, the pad of her thumb gliding across his bottom lip. He barely managed to remember to breathe, his breath ghosting over her fingertips. Belle shivered.

Without thought, without intention, the two old friends leaned in, and their lips met in the darkness. Her mouth was soft and sweet, his stubble scratching pleasantly across her chin as they tentatively explored each other.

When the broke away, there were tears in both their eyes.

“Oh,” Belle whispered, and his hands went to her face now, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Why, you’re perfect.”

They spent the night talking and reminiscing, for soon, Belle would be eighteen, and the Queen’s curse was waiting. The next year, they met in secret every night, though they did not kiss again. Belle tried, but Rumple refused out of a sense of honor, and it broke both their hearts.

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Lord Maurice came to her room. He gave her a blindfold, embroidered by hand and as soft as any cloud. She knew just by touch that it was Rumple’s work.

“Sweetheart,” her father said, and his voice broke as if he was holding back tears. “Gaston has vowed his love for you before the entire court, and I have full faith that you two will be happy together. Tomorrow you shall marry.”

Belle nodded, and put the blindfold on. “Yes, Papa,” she agreed.

When morning came, Belle was not in her rooms. The entire castle looked everywhere for her, all afraid they would be the one to find her. No one wanted to know what would happen if she looked upon their face, for even though they loved the princess in their own way, would it be enough?

Elsewhere, in his small hut, Rumple sat at his wheel, white-knuckled with tears in his eyes.

Today was the day she would marry Gaston. Though Gaston claimed he loved her, Rumple did not believe the man had the capacity to love.

“Hello there.”

He nearly fell off his stool. “Belle!”

She stood in his doorway, a walking stick in one hand, covered in dirt, branches and leaves. His blindfold was tied tightly around her eyes, and her hair stuck out all around it. She looked a sight. He thought her more beautiful than ever. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, hurrying to bring her inside before someone saw her.

“What do you think?” she said in annoyance. “When you didn’t come last night, I had to come to you!”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Belle, we can’t!”

“I decide my fate,” Belle said in determination, and before he could stop her, she reached up and pulled the blindfold from her face.

Bright blue eyes stared back at him, and he was absurdly glad his hut was dark for her pupils were the size of saucers as they truly saw for the first time in her life. “There you are,” she said, and her smile was so beautiful, he forgot how to breathe. “You’re just as beautiful as I pictured.”

Rumple, who had never been called beautiful in his life, blushed to the roots of his hair. “Do you…do you feel different?”

Belle thought for a moment, scrunching up her nose as she always did. With her eyes wide open, it looked even more endearing, and Rumple could barely restrain himself from taking her in his arms.

“I don’t think so,” she finally said. “But I’ve been in love with you since I was six, so I don’t think there would be much of a difference.”

In the end, the Queen’s curse was moot.

For the first face Belle looked upon was a face she had loved all her life, the face of a man who had loved her for just as long in return.


End file.
